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EDITOR'S NOTE: Doug Smith is retiring June 5. This is the 16th in a series of his most requested columns. This encore column first ran in the Observer on Sunday, November 8, 1998. Readers who grew up in the 1950s responded that they, too, were stunned.
Sen. John Glenn's spectacular return to space after 36 years has rekindled the nation's interest in traveling to the stars.
I remember his historic three-orbit ride aboard the Friendship 7 capsule on Feb. 20, 1962. We monitored it on classroom TVs at Harding High School. As monumental as the accomplishment was, I don't believe it had the same impact on our lives in Charlotte as another pivotal event: the Soviet Union's launch of Sputnik I - the first artificial earth satellite - on Oct. 4, 1957.
It was shocking: the beep-beep sound of Sputnik broadcasting from space. The halls of the old Alexander Graham Junior High School (on East Morehead where the YMCA is now) were filled with disbelief, dismay and teen-age boys mimicking the satellite's sound.
We lived in a different time - obviously. Charlotte's population was just under 200,000 compared with more than 507,000 today. The economy wasn't global. The Cold War was heating up. And the United States - or so we were led to believe - was the world's dominant power.
Suddenly, a potential world crisis was dropped on our front porch. We'd been lulled to sleep by our own complacency. We underestimated the Soviet Union's technology. Sputnik shattered our illusions. For the first time in our lives, America was behind in something - the space race.
Our teachers allowed us to discuss our feelings in class. We followed the progress of U.S. and Soviet space efforts in Junior Scholastic magazine. Sputnik was firmly planted in our consciousness - even on the athletic field.
Our neighborhood Pop Warner football team - the Wilmore Redskins - played Saint Leo's Academy in Belmont. To throw us off track - at least that's what we surmised - their players lined up and made Sputnik beeping sounds as our quarterback called signals.
The ploy didn't work. We won the game. But St. Leo's did win a nickname. From then on, we called them ``the beep-beep boys.''
The coolest kids in the neighborhood were the ones with shortwave radios. If you could find the right frequency, you could hear the actual beeps from Sputnik as it orbited overhead.
The most immediate Sputnik fallout I can recall was from hand-wringing community leaders wondering how America could let this happen. The public schools quickly moved to beef up math and science so our generation would be prepared to compete in the new world order.
I felt the impact, too. Before I knew what hit me, I was yanked out of general math and placed in eighth grade algebra. I can't say I enjoyed it, but my friends and I assured ourselves we were doing our part for the country.
Growing up on the heels of World War II and seeing the success of the first American jet planes in the Korean War, most of us dreamed of being test pilots. It was fairly easy to make the transition to astronaut as Glenn and his companions explored the new frontier of space.
What Glenn's successful orbit did was complete the loop for us - from underdog to top dog. Instead of playing catch-up, we were ahead of the Soviets.
You know, I never can recall the exact date of Glenn's historic mission. But I always remember Oct. 4, 1957. I went to church with my family on the Sunday after the Soviet launch. While the minister was delivering the sermon, I flipped to a blank page in the back of my Bible and wrote the date and an inscription: ``Sputnik - the beginning of the space age.''
I still have the Bible, the penciled words and the unique reminder that of all the enemies we face, complacency is the worst.
